


Missing You

by The_Lowlifes_Back



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 10:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lowlifes_Back/pseuds/The_Lowlifes_Back
Summary: “I’ll be waiting here then…”The last thing he said, was that, right?That, he’d wait for her?…what was it she told him?“Don’t miss me too much, Butch.”...and what lie did he tell her, when he sent her off?”I won’t.”





	Missing You

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to extend this and make a sex scene for it, but I thought it might muddle the innocent message of it. I've already got at least 2 other smut pieces that aren't finished and for the larger story, the next chapter is in the works as well.  
> That might be up in the next 2 weeks.  
> I never realize how much I write, till I decide to make something short, lol.
> 
> This drabble, was inspired by Sigma's - Find Me. Music helps things flow for me, heh.  
> I just want to thank everyone who reads my work.  
> The feedback I get humbles me and fills me with pride all at once... thank you all!
> 
> Disclaimer: I dun own anything...other than Evangeline's personality.

_“I’ll be waiting here then…”_

The last thing he said, was that, right?

That, he’d wait for her?

…what was it she told him?

_“Don’t miss me too much, Butch.”_

There’s empty bottles everywhere at his feet. Afternoon light’s shining on particles of dust, floating around and through the kitchen window. What lie did he tell her, when he sent her off? What was it that’s been haunting him?

_”I won’t.”_

The house likes to creak when there’s no one else with him inside it. He missed her. He missed her so much. She was the light in the cold night and she always told him, that he’d never fall up into the dark. Her bedroom door was always across from his, waiting for him if he wanted to come inside.

The couch is old. His jeans are old. The couch is pre-war. Everything up here feels like time’s swallowed it up and spit it back out stained and grimy. He misses her.

He lied. Sunk into the dark cushions, brown and molded in some spots, he’s been too heavy to move. He keeps looking at the door every so often. Everyday he’s been listening for the door. Chest burning, lonely and tired.

The oven groans, the pipes in the sink talk too, and he just listens. He’s been drinking for a while. It’s been really quiet for a really long time. When 3 days went by, he began to count them. 1…2…3…

44.

56.

220.

270.

355.

He didn’t stop counting the days. She made it seem like she’d be back soon. When she left, that’s what it seemed like. He didn’t think about it at first. She always came back.

He’d worked around town, just counting the days. He couldn’t work anymore, once it started to worry him. He told himself she’d be back soon. He still told himself that. He still counts the days.

It’s been a year since she walked out.

He’s still waiting. Dogmeat’s been curled up next to him, waiting for her too.  He thought about packing up and going back to Rivet. He thought about trying to use what she’d taught him to get out of town.

He thought, _‘But she’ll come home and I won’t be here.’_ And then he’d stay a little longer.

He told himself, _‘Just a little longer…’_ he kept telling himself that.

He kept waiting for her to come home.

He kept thinking, _‘Come home…’_

He started crying it into his bottles, whenever he drank, begging her. _“Come home…”_

No letter’s came for him. Lucas’ stopped coming a few months ago. No one checked on him anymore. They knew what they would find. Him…waiting.

It’s not hope that keeps him there. It’s not loyalty. It’s just that he doesn’t know where else to go. He’s had her around his whole life. Where would he go without her?

She left the vault. She came back and flipped it upside down again. She’s the one who dragged him out of the bar when he followed her out. She made the name everyone out here knew for miles around. She was the “savior” and he was just always…waiting.

His eyes close and sometimes, the day goes by in the blink of an eye. It’s day 27 again and he prays she’s not dead. It’s night 42 and he falls asleep holding her pillow. He’s looking at the gates of Megaton on day 212 and Jerico tells him to, _“Just let her go, kid. She ain’t comin’ back.”_ But he’s still waiting for her.

She’s probably dead. Everyone keeps telling him that. It’s not like he doesn’t hear it. He just doesn’t care. He’s going to wait.

She’d wait for him.

When Dogmeat’s head perks up beside him, he doesn’t really notice. He’s been drinking too much. She’d always be there to help take the bottle out of his hand. Now it’s just him now. He’s thought about looking for her.

 _‘But she’ll come home and I won’t be here.’_ Is the thought that keeps him there.

It’s hard not to search for her. It’s hard to wait. It’s not easy. It’s so painful, every day to count another day and not see her in the living room. He regrets not going with her.

He’s got a lot of regrets. Around the 60th day, he realized that he was so in love with her, that he might choke on it. He might die if he never saw her face again. He’d have died if she didn’t take him home with her. He kept dying a little waiting for her, each day.

He has dreams of her walking back through the door. Smiling. Blonde hair shining in the sunlight. His old jacket around her shoulders. Her voice soothing away his fears.

He never told her he loved her. He never held her like he wanted to. He lost so many chances to be good to her, by being afraid. He’d do anything, for the house to stop talking to him. It keeps telling him she’s never coming home.

It’s saying it’s not his house. He’s got no home without her. She was home. She was why he was alive. She made life for him worth living.

When Dogmeat launches off the couch, he feels the springs move violently. His body shakes along with it, but he doesn’t get up. When he hears the front door, he thinks it’s just Simms again. He lifts his arm limply off where its lying beside him and another bottle falls onto the floor. He’s been looking over his shoulder so much, it’s too hard for him to do it that day.

The dog’s whining and it hurts his head. He’s felt tired for so long, that even awake, he’s still not all there. He’s not sure how many hours he’s been sitting on the couch, but it’s been too long. The only thing that he really wakes up for, is to walk up to the calendar.

So he can count another day.

He still trains like she taught him though. It helps pass the time. He said he’d wait and he’d been waiting. He’d been waiting so long. He didn’t know what else he could do.

When footsteps make the old wooden floors creak, it’s familiar.

When he hears her voice, it’s an echo in a tunnel for him. “…Are you still here?”

 He’s been replaying it over and over in his sleep.

Sometimes he’s fooled himself into hearing it awake before.

His back hurts and his bones feel stiff, from sitting for too long.

When he cranes his neck to look behind him, it’s automatic. It’s just a habit. His t-shirt feels musty, like he’s sat there so long, that he’s started collecting dust. His eyes blurry and his head still foggy. On his right, he sees a silhouette he can’t make out.

When was the last time he ate?

He’s weak. So, when he hears her voice again, he’s still lost in himself. “…Oh, Butch…” His back lifts from the couch and he feels…nothing. He feels nothing when it sinks in. He rubs his eyes with his palms, just to be able to see clearly again. Then he looks again, expecting to see an empty hallway.

375 days.

That’s how long she had left him for. His eyes met hers and the house is so quiet. It’s so silent, when he sees her again. His heart feels like a rock, heavy in his chest. Everybody kept telling him to give up.

She wasn’t ever coming back. She was most likely dead. Not one letter or sign she was out there. He lost hope and he still couldn’t leave her alone. He cried into her bedsheets, sat alone in her workspace below his room, waiting and waiting.

He can’t feel anything at first. His veins run numb and he can only stare at her, like someone would stare at a ghost. He saw her like a light in the darkness, every time they’d walk the Wasteland side by side. She was good and she was strong. She always came home.

She’s not wearing the same clothes she left with. Her hair’s really dusty, like she hasn’t been taking very good care of it. Her eyes are bright though and her face is just as the same as it was. It doesn’t sink in right away.

She’s got a bag with her full of caps, like she’d been busy while she was away. She hasn’t aged much…but he feels like he’s lost 10 years of his life. She looks at him like she’s happy to see him and her voice is the same it’s always been. “…You waited…of course you did…” Then the first emotion hits him hard.

How can she just talk so calmly?

Dogmeat’s running around and around her legs, wagging his tail. His heart feels like its snapping alive again. Kicking up dust once more, after he thought it wouldn’t ever work right again. He’s on his feet so fast, that it feels too smooth. His body feels like it’s gone into shock.

His boots knock the glass across the floor and when they clatter loudly, she doesn’t flinch. His voice feels rough, like he hasn’t used it in weeks. “Where…the fuck…were you?” The words hang there between them. Tension so thick between them, that he can feel it. His heart flutters, as she turns her eyes away from his and tucks her hair behind her ear.

She doesn’t say a word either. He wants to say a lot. He wants to say so much at once, that nothing comes out. He’s full of rage and grief. Affection rising and love he never expressed, begins to crash on him in waves. Relief.

When she finally does speak, the words are so simple. “…It’s a really long story…and there's no excuse, that would fix this…” She bites her lip and another wave of relief crashes against him. She does that when she’s thinking. He wonders what she’s thinking. He wonders how his knees aren’t buckling under him.

He wants to scream. He wants to throw bottles and break things. He wants to tell her how messed up she made him. He can’t decide what to do or say first. There’s so much he’s been thinking about, that he’s been stuck in his own head for months.

Finally, his feet make the choice for him.

He takes a step and his vocal chords crack with disuse. “…they kept saying you were dead…” Her eyes snap up, wide and meet him again. They were together for all their lives and she was his best friend for 3 of them outside 101. Her expression hurts him, because there’s such sorrow all over her face. He takes another step, feeling the shock finally start to break him.

He’s shaking. Then the 2nd more powerful emotion that’s been tormenting him daily, rushes him. His voice fills the quiet room and she’s there, real and alive. “…not one letter…” She drops the bag of caps and raises her chin, listening without a thing to say. He gets closer and his eyes blur again, his voice shuddering. “…you were gone…you were just **gone**...” When she finally says something…it’s just his name. “…Butch…”

And he crosses the room like she’ll vanish if he doesn’t move faster.

Her eyebrows are scrunched up with strong emotion and he’s got his hands reaching for her face. The house speaks protest under his heavy boot falls and his face twists, because even now he was still in mourning. She stands there, shaking her head and when he hears what comes out of her mouth, he’s halfway to her already. “…I’m sorry…” He jerks his head from side to side, like he’s fighting with an invisible enemy. His teeth gritted, his voice is gravel and he’d be running towards her if she was any farther away. “-Don’t…”

She looks worried, taking a warry step back, his name always sounding good in her mouth. “Deloria-“The world stops as he follows after her into the hallway. When his hands find her face, hers clasp at his wrists. A step back, he sobs, another step back, and her back hits the wall. Those bright sky eyes of hers are wide, her lips trembling.

The moment they share before his heart finally can’t keep itself caged, is quiet. Their eyes lock and he can see a million thoughts in hers. He can only guess when she must see in his. Head gently tilted, eyes overflowing with innocent joy, he kisses her and pours himself out. Every day, every moment of counting down the hours and his love for her, he gives her everything he has.

Two vault kids, one with the other against the wall. Just like when they were children. They weren’t children anymore though. Her arms wrap around his shoulders and it feels like home again. Somehow, it’s still the same.

Softly, he pulls away. She’s crying too. Then her brushes his thumbs across her cheeks, memorizing her face. Just in case she disappears. Her skin somehow feels soft, like she’d washed it before she came in.

Her breath and his own heartbeat, thrum loudly in his ears. She’s home. She’s finally home. Her expression is shock and awe. He feels a smile in him, that’s been gone for a while.

He presses his forehead to hers and she’s saying dumb shit to him again. “…I’m so sorry…” He feels her hands touching his face now, like she's afraid to hurt him. Blissfully, the moment carries on. He sees the answer to what he never told her or asked her, in her eyes. Love that hurts and blinds him to no end, something he's been waiting for.

Before he kisses her again, the words ignite the fire in his chest that died months ago. Before she falls against him and lets him carry her to his bed, there’s something he can’t keep in. Not anymore, not one more day. So, before they go back to how they used to be, the truth of it, that they can’t ever be the same, spills out of him. In a whisper, with a sob, so ugly that it’s beautiful.

“…I missed you…”

And the way that she kisses him and doesn't stop?

She’d missed him too.

  **End**


End file.
